Sun May 06, 2012 4:51 pm by Darth Sobrius
*Darkness and insanity. Spinning, swirling, creating an imperfect, chaotic spiral. Perhaps appropriate. The spiral spun as though a drill, jagged and tortuous, were driven through the thoughts and mind of the deceased, tearing apart his very being. He was driven to madness, his form crumpled upon the ground of the uneven, twisted landscape. He clawed at the ground, clawed at his head, form tossing and turning as the pain of all that he knew being torn to shreds rippled throughout his spiritual body, reducing the wrinkly old man to an even more pale and emaciated husk of a being.
Many images flashed before his eyes before they were ripped apart and scattered. Images of fleets and ships and soldiers, preparing for battle, engaging in battle, killing and being killed. Various Sith and students, practicing their skills, challenging each other to duels, fighting Jedi, killing enemy soldiers. Sith Lords... A large, hulking figure; a red-tattooed Zabrak; an imposing being in a black suit of armor; a sneering Rodian; the smirking clone of his archenemy... All standing there, all swearing fealty to him.
And there he sat, hooded and cloaked in black upon a throne, overlooking them, giving them his direction and approval.
The man moaned and whimpered as his mind was bored throughout by the spiral weapon of darkness and insanity. His ascension to power, his reign as Emperor, his assault on Belkadan, and his defeat at the hands of a former student. That's when he learned how it all went wrong. That's why right now all that he knew was being ruined, torturing him, driving his frail form into nearly nothing.
He was not Darth Sidious.
The pain seemed to mercifully let up, not entirely, but enough that he felt at relative comfort compared to the torment he was going through. He lay on his side, staring up at the dark red clouds of this landscape, breathing heavily and laboriously. But then he heard more laborious breathing, synthesized, filtered and steady. Menacing. The man looked up; approaching his decrepit form was the very man in black armor from the memories that had been shredded from him.
The figure was tall, imposing, and wielded a red lightsaber. The man on the ground struggled to bring himself to a sitting position, cowering before the dark figure as it finally stopped, glared down at him.*
*The man whimpered and cowered even more as the deep, threatening voice berated him. Despite seeing this figure before, the man could not give a name to it. And now it was threatening to attack him...*
Who... who are you... ?
*The armored figure seemed to laugh, as though the weakened form and pleading tone of the man pleased him.*
*The armored figure reached up with his empty left hand, removing the helmet. Steam billowed from the vents and seams as it unsealed and fell from the man's head. When it hit the ground, it evaporated into smoke, wisping towards the sky and out of sight. Where the helmet once was, where one would expect to see a charred, pale, and scarred head, was that of a healthy and handsome man, with a strong jaw and piercing green eyes.*
*Realization seemed to form in the frail man's eyes. He stared at the figure, realizing this was once one of his students; a "project" he had called it. A success, he would have, had the figure been stronger and not as weak as he was in comparison to the true Lord Vader. The man frowned. Then he glared. The dull pain became a second thought; strength seemed to form in the man's limbs as he stood. Smoke suddenly formed over the man's frame, and when it settled, he was suddenly robed in black. A similar puff of smoke formed in his hand, leaving behind a lightsaber. The blade lit itself. The hooded man sneered at the armor figure as he started to approach him.*
You fool... You would stand against me in this place? You expect to kill me? We are both already dead!
*The armored figure merely smirked, not impressed as he strode forward.*
*The armored figure lunged forward, striking at the man. The man parried it, spinning to the side and striking back at his former apprentice. The two traded blows, their movements elegant as though choreographed, moving through various shifts in poses and strikes and parries and counterattacks, sparks flying from their blades every now and again.*
I'm impressed, Lord Vader. Your skills seem to have greatly increased.
*The armored figure snarled at the man, pushing off against him and bringing his blade down in an overhead swipe, which the man caught horizontally on his weapon and held at bay.*
*A knee thrust to the pelvis caused the man to double over, though he managed to block the armored figure's next strike. The figure responded by using a Force push to blast the man several feet away; he hit the ground and rolled and tumbled backwards with a series of grunts and moans of pain.*
*With a yell, the armored figure charged at the fallen form of the man, but when he got too close, the cloaked man raised his hands and unleashed a steady stream of lightning from his fingertips at the armored figure. He had barely enough time to react, bringing about his blade to absorb the blows with some effort. Sidious slowly got to his feet, sneering, focusing all his energy into the assault, channeling it from the pure dark side that surrounded and permeated this area. After all, that was all there was here: The Dark Side.
They were in Chaos.
The armored figure grunted with the effort, but refused to let his old Master defeat him. This was at last his chance for vengeance, and he was not going to spoil it. He too drew from the dark side and the energies of death. Behind him somewhere formed a large rock, its formation unnoticed by the old man.*
*The stone rushed forward through the air. At the last moment, the armored figure cast aside the lightning and dodged to the side, the stone hurtling towards the man. But the man felt its approach; quickly he threw his body back, dodging just under it, but he aimed his tendrils of electricity towards the stone, engulfing it in lightning as he caught it with his mind. Then, as he jerked himself back to his feet, with a wide gesture of his arm, he hurled the stone at the armored figure.
He had no time to react. The stone caught him dead in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. Lightning arced along his frame; pain shot through his being as he convulsed and lost control of his movements. His body hit the ground under the weight of the stone, which rolled away. His chest was crushed; no doubt it would regenerate, but the pain was intense, burning. He struggled to get to his feet├óÔé¼ÔÇØ
More pain, more electricity. The man was standing over him now, sending unending currents of lightning into the man's frame. He cackled wildly, evilly as he watched his former student thrash about helplessly under the onslaught.*
I warned you it was foolish to stand against me in this place! The dark side is my ally, and here there is nothing other!
*One hand ceased to spew lightning and was held to the side; through the air came his lightsaber, smacking into his palm. The red beam flared to life; the lightning stopped altogether as the man thrust the beam into the chest of the armored figure. His eyes widened in pain, his body continuing to convulse involuntarily several seconds after the lightning had stopped. The man cackled, knowing that this wouldn't kill him, but it would certainly put him in his place.
He withdrew the blade, then kicked the figure, rolling it over onto his stomach. When he finally regained control of his body, he simply curled up in pain, nursing his wounds.
The man ignored him, turning and walking away. He felt younger... stronger. He stood tall, no longer hunched. This had energized him... He could see clearly now. "Vader" was a mistake. "Maul" was a mistake. He had made so many mistakes; those memories that had been shredded and taken from him were not permanently removed, they were a metaphor, revealing to him what he had done wrong in life.*
I let myself become too consumed by the false role of "Darth Sidious"...
*The man looked up towards the blackened, tumultuous skies of Chaos. He let himself become a vessel for the dark side; its energies began to flow through his form rapidly. Their power was so great he felt as though his very skin were burning, but he made no acknowledgement of this fact. His robes billowed as though a gust were blowing. He spread his arms, letting his thoughts swirl and begin to settle into something more cohesive. Finally they lay bare: The image of himself many years ago before he created this scheme. Young, vigorous, willing to serve the dark side...*
I believed if I could successfully take on his name, many would follow, and I could plunge the world into darkness once more...
*He closed his eyes, letting the thoughts form. His intense studies into the ways of Darth Sidious, his rigorous training to perfect the abilities the man was known for, his practicing to take on his mannerisms so that no one would see through the ruse. Illusionary crafting and disfigurement led to his form becoming diminished and resembling that of the Dark Lord of the Sith. Many did believe, others were merely confidants.*
It worked... for a time. But soon many were disillusioned, myself included. I fell into insanity and believed myself to truly be Lord Sidious...
*The images of his Sith apprentices flashed in his mind once more. He opened his eyes, turning to look at the fallen, pained form of one of them who stood now with him in this plane of existence.*
... In time, I even grew to forget the origins of those I raised to be killers.
*The man raised a hand and sent another current of lightning into the form of the armored figure, if only to ensure he remained disabled for a while longer. He then turned away, head bowed.*
But now my head is clear. My mistakes were many and I was a fool not to see them. No. It is not over. I still have a job to do...
*He looked up towards the skies again.*
I have not finished serving the dark side.
*He strode away from this place. He walked and walked and walked, the passage of time eluding him, his feet never growing tired. He left behind his traitorous apprentice; he never lay eye on any of his other Sith comrades as he walked. His mind was reaching out of this place, chipping away at the barrier of life and death. He had to break free. He had to return home. Had to start afresh. His fleets and forces were ruined, destroyed in the assault on Belkadan. But he had stores... He perhaps should have anticipated a possible death and held aside a clone for this specific purpose. The one he so idolized to the point he assumed his identity had done that, after all, so why hadn't he? Arrogance, that was the answer. Believing himself invincible. That was a mistake; another one. He would fix this.
It could have been days or weeks or months. It could have been years for all he knew. But in that time, he had managed to break free of the bonds of Chaos and project his spirit into the living world. Over time he grew more capable, influencing minor events where possible. A man in a cantina pointing a gun at a man, contemplating whether or not to take his life; the Sith spirit had seen to it that he had pulled the trigger. A down-on-her-luck Twi'lek girl who was in a deep depression from having to sell her life to drugs and prostitution just to make a living was sobbing in her bunk, contemplating suicide. He ensured that she took her own life.
He was ready. His form strolled through Chaos, through a sea of tormented souls. He stopped, turning his head to look towards a particular spirit that caught his attention, his mad ramblings and actions catching his attention. The man blinked and stared for a moment, watching him scurry about, his mannerisms nonsensical. The man then turned away and left behind the insane being.*
Your flaws are no longer my own, Sidious.
*He kept walking, at last finding a clear, empty area where he could focus his mind. He sat upon the ground, folding his legs, arms in his lap. He bowed his head, eyes closed, beginning to give himself over to the dark side.*
I am Sobrius. And I shall begin anew.
*His spirit then became a beam of evil energy, lashing out from Chaos, creeping into the bonds of the mortal world. Perfect. There were still men active at a secret storehouse. All Sobrius had to do now was to possess someone with access to the deeper levels, and his plan would soon be in motion...*
